


Four Girls on the Road

by MrRhapsodist



Series: The Punk, The Hippie, and The Church Girl [2]
Category: Alice Isn't Dead (Podcast), Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives Except Rachel, Crossover, F/F, Ghosts, Mystery, POV First Person, Road Trips, Threesome - F/F/F, West Coast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-15 02:57:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11221848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrRhapsodist/pseuds/MrRhapsodist
Summary: The Narrator takes her truck out near Portland. She crosses paths with three girls from Arcadia Bay at different road stops, which seems like a coincidence. But it’s the mysterious hitchhiker that our hero wonders about more, and what her connection to Chloe Price might be.





	1. Trio

**Author's Note:**

> Always wanted to do this crossover, and now it's happening.

**1\. Trio**

Sometimes I wonder, Alice. I stop and I ask myself: _am I cursed?_ Not an unreasonable question, given what I’ve been through. The Thistle Man. The Factory by the Sea. The town of Charlatan. Sylvia. So many signs and wonders, woven across a daisy chain of truck stops and motel rooms in the great American landscape. And every time, no matter the horror, no matter the trouble, it all comes back to you and me, doesn’t it?

But does it really, Alice? After last week, I’m not so sure anymore.

* * *

Five miles outside of Portland, I found a truck stop. When I hopped down from the cabin, I was struck with a stiff wind and the heavy aroma of diesel. Nothing new there. Been on the road so long, I ought to be used to it by now. Like it’s my new perfume. If we’ve ever crossed paths, Alice, I’m sure you could pick me out just by smelling it. You always were a better tracker than me. But what does that say about me when I’m trying to find you?

I parked my rig after filling it up again. Made my way over to the diner half a block down the road. Rudy’s Robin, the place was called. Had a giant blue robin’s egg on the sign. I got within a few feet, and I could already smell bacon and scrambled eggs sizzling from inside. It was a little after eleven at night, but you can’t say no to a good breakfast, Alice. No matter the time.

Inside the diner, a waitress with crow’s feet and a hair bun took my order. I slid back into my booth, already contemplating the bacon and eggs to come. But before my food arrived, more people entered the diner.

I spotted them as soon as I heard the bell ring over the door. Three young women, all dressed in different outfits. All about the same age. There was a girl with brown hair and freckles, wearing a gray hoodie. She stood at the head of the pack, clutching her messenger bag and looking around. Always watching the place. Right behind her was a taller girl. A real punk rocker with dyed hair, tattoos, piercings, and—I swear to God, Alice—her necklace was made out of bullets. She swaggered into the joint, grinning like there’s no tomorrow. Bringing up the rear was the last girl, blonde and small and modestly dressed. A gold cross hung from her necklace, not bullets, like her friend. She looked the most anxious, and she sidestepped over to her friend in the gray hoodie.

A different waitress led them to their own booth, while mine came back with a cup of coffee. I thanked her, and then I watched the girls as they settled down. Well, the one in the hoodie settled down. The one with the blue hair and the tattoos was already fidgeting with the jukebox in the corner, flipping through records at lightspeed. Meanwhile, their friend with the gold cross was trying to read the menu, but her eyes kept lifting and wandering up around the diner. She kept lifting her head and looking around, and—

And then she stopped.

We were looking right at each other.

Maybe, I thought, I should say hello.

* * *

I’m watching storm clouds gather in the desert. Cold, gray, and crackling. There’s a weight in the air when the rain’s about to fall. It’s heavy when you drive along the highway, with the window rolled down. Like, even the air in your lungs gets thick.

I used to think storms were romantic. Remember when we’d watch TV together, Alice? We’d curl up on the couch and see characters sharing a passionate kiss in the rain. Or they’d chase each other in the rain. But it’s not the same in real life. No one’s romantic in the rain. Everything gets damp and heavy, and you can hardly breathe. And forget about running. If you’re chasing someone in the rain, you’re as likely to trip and hurt yourself.

I guess that’s kinda how love goes in the real world, too.

* * *

The girls approached me with some caution. I don’t think it was my race that made them a little skeptical. I mean, how often do you just chat up random truckers when you’re a college kid on on a road trip?

“You look a little lost,” I said, waving for them to join me. Not that I was in the mood for company. I wanted food and sleep, but I could already tell that this wasn’t going to be one of those nights, Alice.

“We kinda are,” said the girl in the hoodie.

“Max, we’re _not_ lost,” the one with the tattoos insisted. “We’re hella chasing the sun. Where’s your spirit of adventure?”

“Back at the Bay,” her friend replied.

“Girls, please.” This came from the quiet Christian. All she had to do was flash a smile, and her friends shut up. I knew I liked her right away.

I got their names and their story. Max, the girl in the hoodie. Chloe, the girl with the tattoos. And Kate, the girl with the gold cross. All girlfriends in a committed relationship with each other, which didn’t faze me in the slightest. All taking their first big trip out from a small town in Oregon. Arcadia Bay. I thought I knew the name from a news article I’d read months ago. A little out of the way for me, but the article boasted good seafood and quaint scenery.

Quaint. Why do so many places like to refer to themselves as “quaint”? I’d call a girl’s dollhouse quaint. A model village. That’s what I picture when I heard the word “quaint.” Some place that doesn’t want to acknowledge its flaws. A place scrubbed clean of its history. Scrubbed clean of its sins.

“We’re heading toward LA,” Max explained. “We’ve got a promise to keep.” She turned and shared a smile with Chloe. “Something we’ve been planning for a while.”

I nodded. “Sounds nice.”

“Well, it’d be nicer if Maximus here would trust the damn GPS,” Chloe shot back. With her hands tucked behind her head, she looked almost nonchalant. Almost, because her tone said she was tired of being second-guessed.

“What’s your route?” I asked.

We continued to chat over coffee and late-night breakfast. I don’t remember what I liked more, the greasy hot food or the three girls chatting and cracking jokes the whole time. In their conversation, I caught snippets of their lives before tonight. A prep school called Blackwell. The Prescott family, and all the people they once had in their pocket. Similar diner fare at a place called the Two Whales, and concerts out in the woods.

It was like stepping in a time machine, Alice. Listening to someone else talking about you and me. A long, long time ago.

* * *

You know the saying, “Let’s blow this popsicle stand”? I ask because, ahead on the side of the highway, I can see an honest-to-God popsicle stand. An old man with a big umbrella sits in a folding chair next to a wooden table. And behind him is a huge freezer, equipped with a portable generator, and he’s advertising popsicles, two dollars each. Fifty cents more for napkins.

It’s a tempting offer. This far into Southern California, you don’t get many chances for an icy treat like this. In Antelope Valley, the air is heavy and dry, leaving my throat parched. But out here is a tiny man, a saint, trying to sell popsicles to anyone passing by.

I mean, fuck it, right? You only live once.

* * *

We found a motel just up the road. Chloe was practically drooling over the sight of my truck. Kept calling it my “big badass rig.” I had to laugh at how hard she tried to front, if only for my benefit. She wasn’t a born punk. Something she’d grown into.

The girls got a room all to themselves, and they wished me a good night. I did likewise.

Lying there in the dark, I couldn’t help myself. I thought about you, Alice. I stared up at a ceiling I didn’t recognize, except it still looked like every ceiling in every travel lodge I’ve stayed at. An all-too-familiar ceiling. I kept wondering if you were out there doing the same thing. If it was nighttime wherever you were. If you weren’t thinking of me, too.

I stretched my hand out. You didn’t reach back. Or, if you did, from your own motel room, I couldn’t feel it.

I thought of the girls in the room next to mine. Heard their hushed murmurs and chatter late into the night, while I tried to fall asleep.

Early the next morning, I got up and checked out. After grabbing a complimentary cheese danish from the lobby, I headed outside. But before I could reach my truck, I crossed paths with who else but Chloe Price, the girl with the tattoos. She stood outside the motel, slumped beside a trash can, puffing away on a cigarette. When she noticed me, her face twisted into a grin and she offered me a smoke.

I refused, of course. Nothing against the habit, but I never found the taste for it. Chloe shrugged and stared out at the mostly empty parking lot.

“You ever see anything spooky out on the road?” she asked.

I didn’t know how to respond.

“I’ve seen some things,” I decided to say.

Chloe grinned. “I’ll bet. Like, what? Chupacabras? Bigfoot?” She puffed out her chest. “’Cuz lemme tell ya, if you’re up for a Bigfoot sighting, you’ve gotta swing by Arcadia Bay.”

I smiled. “Is that right?”

“Yessir.” Chloe took another hit and let the smoke billow out in a long cloud. Watched the smoke dissipate into the bright morning air. “I mean, if you’re into that sorta thing. Me, I’d rather have a day at the shooting range and a rock show every night.”

“To each their own,” I answered.

“Hella yeah.” Chloe regarded me with a smile. “Gotta say, I’ve never met a girl trucker before. That’s just crazy awesome. How’s the job pay?”

I shrugged. “Enough. It was...” I paused. Too heavy in my heart to let the truth out. Even though I liked Chloe. “It was a good career change. Had to get out. Go somewhere new.”

“Gotcha,” said Chloe. She took another drag on her cigarette. Her gaze turned thoughtful. “That doesn’t sound bad at all...”

I could already see where things were going. Much as I didn’t like the idea of anyone else getting involved with my company—with my _real_ company, Bay and Creek Shipping—I knew I could keep an eye out for someone like Chloe Price. We exchanged phone numbers, and I gave her a few recommendations on where to look.

She promised to tell her girlfriends goodbye for me. And that was it. I got back into my truck, and I continued with my route. Like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

* * *

I didn’t get the first sign of trouble until I hit the Interstate, about a few miles south of the Oregon state border.

There was a girl. Another lost soul on the side of the highway. My breath caught in my throat. Oh God, I thought. Not another one. Not another Sylvia Parker, lost and forgotten. This one, this girl, she was standing up. Her thumb raised high in the air, holding a duffel bag. I could’ve ignored her. I could’ve drove by. After all, I had a truck full of DVDs in shrink wrap in the back. Some R-rated, some not, and all bound for some nonsense buyer in San Bernardino. Why stop for some dumb kid who shouldn’t have been out here?

But I did. I stopped.

My soul grinded along the road just like the tires squealing as I came to a halt. My breath caught in my throat, but I didn’t pull away. Didn’t look away from this girl, this strange smiling girl who could’ve been a trap. Because haven’t I seen enough of these traps? Strange smiling folk walking out from the middle of nowhere. Our modern-day spin on the dark forest you’re not supposed to enter like a good child. Because there are terrible, charming things lurking in the woods, child.

“The hell are you doing out here on your own?” I asked.

“Thanks,” the girl said. She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. I was riveted. Couldn’t look away. Couldn’t tear my eyes from the earring she wore. A blue feather. Bright and shiny, like it belonged to a bluejay.

“Where you heading?” I finally asked.

“LA,” she said, and then she grinned. “Everything’s cool in LA.”

“So they say.” I waited until she dropped her duffel bag on the foot of the cabin, and then she closed the passenger door. Then I looked her over. “You got a name, too?”

The girl gave me a winsome smile. “Yeah. It’s Rachel. Rachel Amber.”


	2. Hitchhiker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trucker deals with a mysterious girl out on the road. She tries to connect her with the other girls from Arcadia Bay.

**2\. Hitchhiker**

Something about this girl, Alice. It’s the way she looks, but not just her looks, you know? It’s how she looks at me. How she’s looking right through me? Or how, when we’re cresting a hill in the road, and the sunlight peeks out in a tiny sliver of gold on the horizon, she’ll flash that grin like she’s just heard the best joke ever.

I wish she’d let me in on whatever the big joke is.

* * *

We crossed the border into California in relative silence. Sometimes, Rachel wanted to talk. She’d make a comment about a cloud drifting by or laugh at a highway sign advertising the nearest In-N-Out. But there wasn’t much else for us to look at. It was a long drive out from Oregon. I could handle the silence just fine. But trying to make conversation with this stranger? Not so much. 

When we passed another truck, I asked if Rachel had ever been to California before. She turned and flashed me that enigmatic smile.

“You could say I’ve been everywhere,” she answered. “Like, everywhere and every _ when. _ ”

“Don’t you have family worrying about you?” I persisted. “Or friends?”

“Family wouldn’t care,” Rachel told me. Then she got this wistful look and turned her gaze out the window, at the endless brush and dirt stretching out beyond the highway. Out to the distant brown mountains, where no sense of civilization had ever set foot. “And as for friends? They’re doing what they do best. Can’t ask for more than that.”

I could tell that she wasn’t going to offer much. I got nostalgic for Sylvia’s conversations. Or even the wild, adorable banter of those three girls from Arcadia Bay.

Why are we so mysterious, Alice? I don’t just mean you. You had your reasons, I’m sure. Even if they did break my heart. But that’s not what I mean. Why do people not want to talk to each other? Like, really talk? It’s what I see on the highway every day. Everyone’s in a hurry to get somewhere, but we don’t connect. Locked into our metal boxes, blazing ahead and frantically checking the signs on the side of the road, all looking for the best place to hop off and catch a break. We don’t talk. We just pass each other by, drifting in and out of each other’s lanes—

Ugh, like  _ this _ asshole in a Volvo right now!

Excuse me, Alice.

* * *

Rachel didn’t tell me much more until we were two miles out of Hornbrook, California. It’s not much of a rest stop or a town. But at least there’s a gas station, and I needed to pee. The weird thing was, the closer we got, the more talkative Rachel got. Like she wasn’t willing to keep up the mysterious hitchhiker act anymore. I can’t imagine why. 

“So, I have this one friend?” Rachel said. Her finger traced a pattern along her blue feather earring. I didn’t know what it meant, but it was a pattern. “She’s... nice. She’s like a wild dog, you know? Like, if you keep her on a leash, she’ll snarl and bite, but if you give her snacks and room to run around, she’s, like, the cutest thing ever.” She sighed and stared out the window again. “You’d like her.”

“Sounds like you like her plenty,” I risked saying.

Rachel laughed. It wasn’t a happy sound.

“I like everyone,” she admitted. “That’s the whole fucking problem. I get to everyone.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“It means I can be someone’s new best friend and a total bitch.” Rachel shrugged. “Depending on the time and day.”

“Sooo, like... bipolar disorder?” I know, I know. It’s not nice to stereotype, but I didn’t know where else to go with that train of thought.

At least Rachel wasn’t offended. She shrugged again. “I dunno. Knew a guy who once said I was like a battery. Got both a positive and a negative end.”

“Trippy,” I said.

“He sure was,” Rachel replied. Then she laughed. “And sweet, too.”

“Sounds like you’re sweet on him, too.”

“Oh, Lord.” Rachel shook her head, still laughing. “Not even close, babe! He’s older than the mountains!”

Tired, and more than a little frustrated, I decided not to press the matter any further. As it was, the traffic on the Interstate was picking up. With less than half a mile to go, I changed gears and focused on pulling my truck onto the first available offramp. Small, single-storey houses and empty roads began appearing on the horizon. The first signs of life in Northern California. The fringes of the fringe.

I said, under my breath, “Welcome to Hornbrook.”

* * *

I hate having to fill up for gas, but I love going to the little stores at gas stations. That’s weird, right? Well, I can’t help but be what I am. And what I am is a girl who loves the clean, orderly rows of snacks and soft drinks that you see in every gas station market. Give me the worst day out on the road, and there’ll still be a box full of Snickers next to a box of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. There’ll still be plenty of name-brand soda and juice hogging up freezer space nearby. It’s something I can trust in, no matter the geography. It’s the unwritten code of American travelers: you don’t mess with the food and drink options at your local gas station. 

All this crossed my mind as we pulled up to the first gas station we saw. I yanked up the brake, and as I did, I heard Rachel shift in the seat next to me.

“Hey.” Her voice came out soft, which surprised me.

“Hmm?” I fiddled with the key in the ignition.

“You... you don’t...” Rachel breathed out slowly. “Damn. I was never good at this part.”

“At what part?”

“Being direct. Telling people how much I actually...” She swallowed. “How much I gave a shit.”

She didn’t say anything more. I was already unbuckling my seatbelt, already writing off this conversation in my head. Let Rachel be mysterious, I thought. Let her wander off to the nearest Greyhound bus, and this’ll all be a weird but brief memory.

But then she said, “If you see Chloe Price, tell her I said hello.”

I froze, halfway out of my seat, my fingers already curled around the door handle.

“How do you know Chloe?” I asked.

But fate is never that simple for me, is it, Alice? Because, when I turned around to look Rachel in the eyes and finally demand a honest, straightforward answer for once on this trip, she was gone.

Not just gone. Had never been there.

Not even her duffel bag remained.

I felt around the empty passenger seat. It wasn’t even warm, and we’d been driving for at close to two hours. Not even a loose strand of blonde hair, to signify that anyone had been this close to me in my own damn truck.

I took a breath. And then I took another. I kept breathing, until I was able to stop shaking. When I got out of the truck and closed the door behind me, I knew I wasn’t going to faint onto the asphalt or burst into tears. A well-dressed man, leaning on the side of his Volvo as he filled up his tank, shot me an odd look, but I ignored him. Staggering forward, I willed myself into the gas station, where a fistful of crumped dollars bought me a soda and a chance to collect myself in the unsanitary restroom.

After fumbling through my pockets, I found my phone and managed to type out a quick text message. Addressed to Chloe Price, in fact. But before I could hit Send, I stopped and read the message over. And over. And over.

_ Do you know a Rachel Amber? _ I’d written.

Harmless, at first glance, but the more I thought it over, the more I imagined Chloe getting spooked, wherever she was now. After all, we’d only just met out on the road.

I deleted the text.

I left the bathroom, filled up my gas tank, and drank my soda in the scorching California heat. If that idiot in the Volvo had hung around, I didn’t notice. If Rachel had showed up again, I didn’t notice that either.

That’s when I knew how to describe what I felt.

Haunted.

I felt haunted, Alice.

You ought to know, since you’ve been haunting me plenty.

* * *

I still had cargo to haul. Still had several tons of shrink-wrapped DVDs to deliver down the coastline. Because time would not kindly stop for me, the way Death did in that Emily Dickinson poem, I had to get back on the road right away. Made good time down the Interstate, brushing through relatively light traffic to make it to Mount Shasta by nightfall. Passed more lonely gas stations and tried not to imagine a weird smiling girl who wasn’t really there, her Cheshire cat’s grin chasing me to each stop along my route. 

By the time I reached Shasta, I was exhausted. I was done with everything and everyone. A motel with a familiar ceiling lay in my immediate future. But with my truck parked and my room for the night booked, I decided to take a chance. Do something unexpected. See if, just maybe, the winds of fate would blow differently for me that evening.

I took a cab from the motel into town. Found myself walking toward a small, windowless bar on the corner of a working-class neighborhood. I didn’t flinch when I kept hearing random car alarms going off in the distance, or the occasional argument from an upstairs apartment window as I passed underneath. That was normal. I could handle normal just fine.

But nothing had prepared me for the sight of two small girls standing outside the same bar I was approaching. Or the fact that their friend, a girl with blue hair and tattoos, took a swing at the burly man now escorting her outside.

To no one’s surprise, I recognized them right away.

Chloe Price, still wearing the same ripped-up clothes as before, snarled and clawed at the barman as he slammed the door in her face. And then, as she flipped off the door, she called out, “Yeah, well, your beer is still  _ shit, _ asshole!”

Beside her, Kate shook her head. “Chloe,” she pleaded. She had a way of saying her girlfriend’s name like a prayer. A tired prayer to a deity who might not be listening.

I could relate, of course.

When I sauntered up, Max saw and recognized me right away. She all but dashed toward me, and I held out my arms to catch her in a sudden hug. Kate came up and did likewise, while Chloe hung back. She was still pissed, but at a look from Max, she turned and flashed me a grin, along with a pair of finger guns.

“Lookin’ good, Miss Badass,” said Chloe. “Where’s your rig?”

“Parked for the night.” I tilted my head. “Stirring up trouble, I see?”

Chloe grinned. “Girl, it’s the only way I know how to be.”

I appreciated her carefree nature, but something inside my chest kept me on guard. Rachel Amber’s message was on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it. My throat had gone hard and dry all of a sudden. How do you tell someone about a ghost? How do you not sound crazy? Especially when you’ve seen what happens when people don’t believe you. Or worse, when they don’t care. Like the policeman who didn’t stop the Thistle Man. Like the bystanders in that parking lot. It’s a lonely feeling, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

Max, however, must have sensed something was amiss. She put on a tender smile for my sake and asked if I’d like to grab dinner with them.

That was how, for the second night in a row, I found myself sharing greasy hot food with the three girls from Arcadia Bay.

* * *

Carbs might be bad for the body in large amounts, but dammit, they’re also a great source of comfort. I think it’s something that every grandmother knows deep down. When your kids are sad or tired, you feed them lots of carbs, and they’ll forget their troubles. Until next time, of course. I knew we were never going to be grandmothers, Alice. Wasn’t in the cards. But I gotta say, on that night in the restaurant, I had the same urge to get these girls as much food as they could handle. 

Because I knew. I knew what was lurking for them out on the road.

As Max and Chloe proceeded to talk shit about each other’s choice in music over a shared bread bowl, I engaged their friend Kate for a while. She’s so shy and gentle that I felt the most protective toward her. She’d smile and speak so softly that I wanted to put her on my lap and feed her cookies.

Jesus, I know. I’m getting soft. And I’m not even that old.

“My parents... they mean well, of course.” Kate would always defend someone, even when she was subtly criticizing them. As she spoke, she fiddled with the gold cross around her neck. “But they’d have never let me see all this on my own. My mother would have insisted that I stay home instead.”

“So how did you convince her?” I asked.

Kate blushed at this. “Well, that’s the thing... I didn’t, exactly.”

I smiled. “Easier to ask forgiveness than beg permission, right?”

She nodded. “Right.” Then her face lit up again, and all was right with the world. “But I did tell my father, of course. He understands, even if he’s worried for me, too. Because that’s what love is, isn’t it?”

I nodded. “You have no idea.”

She really didn’t, Alice. I knew that she’d been taken to the edge of despair. Put through some terrible times back home. But I doubted that she’d ever seen half the horrors I knew from the road. And that’s not even counting the misery of having to track  _ you _ everywhere, Alice. I’d never stand against a love like hers, but there’s a difference, right? It’s different when you’ve sweated, cried, and bled for the people in your life.

Thankfully, the restaurant we’d chosen was packed for a weeknight, so Chloe could be as loud as she wanted. And she wasn’t even buzzed after leaving the bar. I caught her eye, and she grinned back.

“Something on your mind?” she asked. “Lay it on me, sista.”

“Just curious, really.” I shrugged. Tried to play things cool. “You’ve been out on the road now. Seen anything weird for yourself?”

Chloe laughed. “I wish! Nothing but tumbleweeds and gas stations!”

To her right, Max rolled her eyes. “Don’t listen to her. She thinks bandits are gonna jump out like we’re some stagecoach in a Western.”

“Well, geez, Maximo, that  _ would _ be hella exciting, right?” Chloe flicked her hand in irritation. “Be a thousand times better than abso-fucking-lutely nothing.”

“Oh, and driving with Kate and me isn’t delightful?” The words were sharp, but the smile and the half-closed eyes Max flashed her friend weren’t hostile in the slightest.

A tiny blush appeared on Chloe’s face, and I’m sorry, but I had to laugh. She was too cute, the way she dropped her tough girl act. I began to realize that Rachel had been right about her. Give her a treat, and she’d be the sweetest little pup.

Still, I couldn’t bring herself to say it. Rachel’s voice echoed in my head.  _ If you see Chloe Price, tell her I said hello. _

So what, I thought. A weird vision. A half-baked daydream. That’s all it could’ve been.

But that’s not what I find on the road. I find the mysteries and the strange attractors. I guess I  _ am _ the strange attractor, Alice. We both are, in our own way.

Bracing myself, I turned and looked Max in the eye. Max looked back at me, quiet and patient as ever. She wasn’t surprised. Wasn’t even concerned. She knew, I think. I don’t know how she knew, but some feeling passed through the air between us. It was like that old feeling you get when you see two veterans talking to each other. We don’t have to talk about what they’ve seen. We just understand each other without words.

“Did  _ you _ see something?” Max prompted.

I nodded. “I think so.”

“Oooh!” Chloe rubbed her hands together with glee. “C’mon then! Spill those juicy secrets!”

I took a deep breath. Beneath the table, I felt Kate’s hand land on top of mine, giving it the light, reassuring squeeze that I so desperately needed then. I looked away from Max’s quiet, patient stare and met Chloe’s eager expression.

“Do you,” I asked, “know someone by the name of Rachel Amber?”

Chloe’s face fell.

“What?” she asked. Her voice had gone small. Small, and wounded.

I shook my head. “I don’t know what it means, Chloe. But this morning, I gave a ride to a young woman. She... she told me her name was Rachel Amber.” I paused, fighting for breath. Fighting back the terror I’d felt. “She told me to tell you... she says hello...”

My voice trailed off. I couldn’t continue, not when I saw the tears streaming down her face. Not when I saw the way Max reached over and clasped Chloe’s hand. Clenched onto it tight, and shook her head, fighting back her own tears. Beside me, Kate’s hand grew strong around mine, and I saw that she was just as worried.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” Chloe insisted. With a violent shake of her head, the tears flew from her cheeks and landed on mine. “She’s not... you can’t possibly know...”

“Chloe, I’m sorry—” I tried to say. But she stopped me with a glare.

“Just... just stop.” Chloe, by now, had collapsed against Max. Her eyes and her cheeks were wet, and she buried her face into Max’s shoulder. “Just stop talking... please...”

I did as she asked. Of course, after that, finishing our meal was next to impossible. I flagged the waitress for the check. With Kate’s quiet guidance, I helped Max and Chloe out of the restaurant and down the street to my motel. No one said a word on that walk. We followed the silent patterns of the stars overhead and the occasional roar of a passing car on the street, letting the small town have its say instead.


	3. Ghost Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our trucker learns the story of what the girls left behind in Arcadia Bay. Max gets a glimpse of the larger mystery at work.

**3\. Ghost Stories**

Memory’s a powerful thing. You think you know someone because of your memories about them. How they took their coffee each morning, or the way you’d snuggle together under the sheets at night. But then, if you learn something new, something unexpected, you find a clash. A threat to your precious memories. Suddenly, you’re questioning everything you’ve ever known about the people in your life.

I know it all too well, Alice. So does Chloe Price.

* * *

Soft light touched the sky very early in the day. Not a hint of a gleam from the sun yet, but the sky itself got brighter. I like to imagine that this was what all those wizards and shamans from centuries past thought when they talked about magic. You look long enough, and you can see the pink and green hues mingling in the air, and you think, sure, why wouldn’t there be some mighty spirit making all those colors dance?

I take solace in those quiet moments, Alice. Leaning on the railing outside my motel room upstairs, I could watch the day unfold.

It beat having to think about the poor girls waking up in the room next to mine.

I made my way downstairs to the front office. Grab myself a plate full of free doughnuts and a giant Styrofoam cup of coffee. The coffee wasn’t not great, but it’d keep me wired for the next five hours of driving. Long enough to get me to Sacramento, where I had to check in before the final stretch of the journey to Los Angeles. Shining, sprawling Los Angeles, whose hunger for shrink-wrapped DVDs knows no bounds. I was looking forward to closing out this job, but even so, I felt guilty about leaving Max and her girlfriends in their mess.

So I headed back upstairs, having eaten only one doughnut. The rest I covered with a napkin and carried up to the motel room next to mine. I knocked on the door and waited.

Max opened the door. Her hair was a poofy, sleep-tangled mess, and her eyes weren’t quite adjusting to the sudden outdoor light. Still, when she saw the doughnuts in my hand, her face lit up with a grin.

“Okay, do you actually have superpowers?” she asked, taking the plate from me. “Because Kate doesn’t believe me, but I think you must be a mind reader. Your timing is perfect.”

“Just fortunate, I guess,” I answered.

Following her inside, I saw that the room was a mess. Hair products and makeup kits littered the floor on either side of the bed, with several hair scrunchies and an old wooden brush taking up space on the nightstand. Chloe lay sprawled on her stomach on the bed, where she’d kicked off every sheet and quilt, using only the pillows to prop herself up as she watched TV. She didn’t even acknowledge me when I came in. Her eyes were red and puffy, and I couldn’t tell how much was from crying or from a lack of sleep.

Beyond her, I could hear Kate humming to herself in the bathroom. With the door left open, I caught a glimpse of her in the mirror, as she brushed and arranged her hair into a perfect bun. There was, I admit, a godawful ton of hair to manage. Poor thing could make Rapunzel jealous.

“Whaddup,” Chloe called out from her would-be pillow fort. “Glad to see you hung around.”

“I just wanted to make sure you were all okay,” I replied. Max, meanwhile, had guided me to one of those standard-issue armchairs that every motel has. They’re by no means comfortable, but when you need to sit in something that’s not a bed, they’ll pass.

Chloe, however, shot an irritated glance at the TV. Then she stabbed her finger at the remote, killing the power. With a growl, she was this close to hurling it at the box, but Max reached out and caught her friend’s wrist. The two girls made eye contact, and I could read what passed between them.

It was a familiar look, Alice. That _don’t-you-even-think-about-it_ look. We’ve had our share of them.

“Hey, Chloe,” Max hissed. “We have company. Plus, we haven’t checked out yet.”

“Okay.” Chloe blinked, and she lowered the remote. “Okay. Sorry, Super Max. I won’t smash up the room.” Her eyes slid me in a meaningful glance. “Not yet, anyway.”

“That’s... better,” said Max. With a shake of her head, she dropped onto the bed beside Chloe. Wrapped her arms around her girlfriend and held her close.

When Kate had finished up in the bathroom, she gave me a smile. Then she, too, joined her friends on the bed. The three girls from Arcadia Bay, all squeezed together into one ridiculously cute cuddle pile. If I weren’t so considerate, I’d have taken a picture on my phone. Made it my new wallpaper.

From the depths of the pile, Chloe looked out at me. Her eyes were a little softer now. Amazing how a little change in expression could make her seem younger.

“Hey,” she said, “do you... wanna hear it?”

“Hear what?”

“The story.” Chloe swallowed. “H-how it all went down. With Rachel and me.”

I nodded. “If you want to tell me. But first, one thing.”

Before she could ask what, I got up and went to the still-covered plate on the table. With no ceremony, I unwrapped a doughnut and forced it into Chloe’s hand. She stared at it in total silence for a moment. Then she giggled, and then we were all laughing while she devoured it like a wolf.

What is it about food, Alice, that gets us to open up this way?

* * *

Listen.

The story I heard was not a happy one.

It had—has—a happy ending, Alice, just like how I hope ours will someday. An end to the searching. An end to the long hauls under dark skies and across lonely highways. But the story I heard from Max and Chloe, with occasional input from Kate, was not an easy one to hear.

It began with two girls falling out of touch six years ago. It ended with a gunshot inside a school bathroom by a student off his meds. Inside that bathroom, a girl got shot, and another girl watched from behind an empty stall. Inside that bathroom, two friends were reunited without even recognizing each other. All because some tormented rich kid named Nathan Prescott lost his cool. All because Chloe Price, after turning into a rebel without a cause, pushed the envelope one time too many.

And where did poor Kate Marsh fit into all this? She was another victim of Nathan Prescott. A girl on the verge of suicide, except for a gunshot inside a school bathroom that exposed all his crimes. Kate and Max were already close, but the truth brought them together, in every sense of the word. And as Chloe recovered in the hospital, she turned over a new leaf, too. Got her back on track, once she could walk again. Got her to finally admit all those feelings she’d been harboring for Max all those years.

All because of a gunshot inside a bathroom. All because of a girl’s body buried inside a junkyard. And all because of a quiet girl named Kate who invited Chloe into the love she and Max already shared.

By the end of it, Chloe was crying. Max was sniffling, but didn’t let the tears fall. Instead, she let herself be wrapped in her girlfriend’s strong arms.

Kate offered me a box of tissues, which I declined. I felt for them. I really did. But I wasn’t ready to weep yet. Not least because of one unanswered question.

Where did Rachel Amber fit into all this _now?_

“I don’t know,” said Max when I asked her. She fell back into Chloe’s embrace, nestled in a cocoon that she might never leave again. “I... I thought she’d have some peace. Now that Nathan and Jefferson are gone. But this doesn’t make any sense either. Why’d she visit you and not us?”

“I wish I knew,” I said. “Believe me, I’d love to have answers for _anything_ these days.”

To my side, Kate lowered the pencil on the artwork she’d been sketching throughout. She offered a shy smile and said, “Did you, um, notice anything unusual about Rachel? Like her face or her clothes?”

“Mysterious,” I said. “She had this tiny smile that made her look so mysterious—”

“It’s her.” Chloe’s voice broke the flow of our conversation. She didn’t lift her head, but her voice came out strong enough to hear. She gently reached up and wiped at Max’s nose as she sniffled again.

I nodded. “Then you’re probably the best person to talk to about this.”

“Like hell I am!” Chloe shook her head, almost shaking Max free from her grip. “You think I knew about her banging Frank Bowers? Or, I don’t know, hooking up with the actual Devil? Gee, I _wish_ I knew Rachel Amber! I wish I knew shit about her!”

“Chloe...” Max’s voice came out in a rasp. She sniffled again.

“God, why do I fall for the bitchy ones? Why do they all leave, huh?”

“Chloe...”

“I mean, sure, life’s not bad enough for Chloe Price. Let’s just keep dumping on her until she breaks—!”

“Chloe, look!”

The last cry came from Kate, who rushed over to the bed with tissues in hand. I was on my feet in a second, stunned at what I’d witnessed.

During her girlfriend’s extended rant, Max’s eyes had begun to glaze over. At first, I thought it was just exasperation. She’d heard all this a hundred times before. But then she kept sniffling, and when she lifted her hand to her nose, I caught a glimpse of blood trickling over her fingers. Then, in a split second, Max’s face went pale. Fresh blood oozed out of her nose, and her eyes rolled up into the back of her head. She fell limp into Chloe’s arms right as Kate freaked out.

I knew enough first aid to get Max’s head elevated on a few pillows. As Kate wiped off her face with the tissues, I stood by Chloe as we guided Max into a safe recovery position. She was still breathing, thank God, but her eyes kept flickering open and shut. I worried that she might’ve been an epileptic, but I knew enough about seizures to rule that out.

Moments later, Max regained consciousness with a groan. She clutched at the side of her head and waved her other hand through the air. Chloe caught it, and she squeezed it tight.

“Jesus, Max...” Terror filled her voice. “You freaking had me worried there. Feel better?”

“I dunno...” Max’s voice came out soft and low. She touched the crusted spot of blood on her upper lip and winced. “Ugh. Oh, God... was that real?”

“Uh, yeah, dude. Your nose just went bloody like the shower scene in _Psycho._ ”

“No. I mean...” With each second, Max’s voice grew stronger. “The storm.”

Chloe and Kate exchanged a look.

“What storm?” Kate asked.

Max shook her head. “The storm. The one I saw just now. It... it didn’t feel like a daydream. I...” With another groan, she grabbed at her temples. “Ugh. I saw it hit the town. It ripped everything up. The _whole_ town. Like a giant twister.”

I pursed my lips together. “Max, you need to rest. You’re not making any sense.”

“I know what I saw!” she insisted, all but choking on her words. “I saw the storm! And...” She squeezed her eyes shut. Her voice came out small and tight. So much so that we all had to lean in to hear her.

“And I saw Rachel by the lighthouse,” she added.

* * *

Ghosts and visions. That’s what I see out on the road.

I see ghosts of people trying to make their lives matter, even when they’re caught in loops of time I can’t begin to comprehend. Like the old man in the factory by the sea. Like the brother and sister who worked at the same restaurant in every city, growing older and outpacing me at every stretch of highway. I’m the collector of their weird tales, Alice. Just as you must be the weird participant in someone else’s story. The grand instigator. An agent provocateur.

You always did prefer it that way, I guess.

I wonder what you’d say if you saw Rachel Amber’s ghost at every stop. If you saw her vanish in Milwaukee and reappear hours later, already waiting for you in Des Moines or Indianapolis. Would you deal with her the way I’ve been? Would you know something about her that I didn’t?

I thought I knew you, Alice. At times like these, I like to think I still do.

You and me. Chloe and Rachel. We’re not so different in the end.

That was how I decided to follow the girls to Los Angeles.

* * *

After Kate and I handled checking out at the front office, we put Chloe in charge of looking after Max. Gave her plenty of water and vending machine snacks to get her a little less woozy. When the color returned to her face, I declared her fit to move again. And over Chloe’s objections, I had her put Max up in the cab with me, while she and Kate followed in their own truck.

“Look,” I said, “you might not be my biggest fan right now, but trust me. I know every route in and out of this state.” I scoffed. “I know every road across _every_ state, Chloe. And come hell or high water, I will get you girls to LA.”

“Okay,” said Chloe, “but why?”

I paused. In the distance, I could’ve sworn I heard storm clouds rumbling.

“Because something tells me that’s where Rachel is going to be,” I replied.

I left her standing silent and sad in the parking lot. As Kate helped me buckle Max into her seat, I caught a glimpse of Chloe moving toward her own truck. Heard the ancient engine rumble to life as she keyed up the ignition.

At least she couldn’t see my smile. Probably hit me for it, too.

* * *

Nothing out of the ordinary found us on the Interstate that day. No more sightings of a dead girl on the side of the road. No more visions of a storm or a lighthouse. Max slept a good deal during the drive down to Sacramento. I would occasionally check her nose for signs of bleeding, but she was fine after that first scare. Even so, I kept a box of tissues on the dashboard, all within reach.

Almost an hour away from Sacramento, as the sun tilted down toward the horizon, I asked Max if she’d ever seen this happen before.

“I don’t...” Max shook her head. “I don’t _think_ so.”

I frowned. “You don’t sound so sure of yourself.”

“I get this weird feeling.” Max sniffled and automatically wiped at her nose. No blood there. She continued. “Have you ever had a dream so strong that you thought it was real?”

I decided not to tell her about the Thistle Man. Or the town of Charlatan.

Instead, I told Max about the day we first met, Alice. I told her about the days we had since, up to and including our wedding. You’d never looked happier, and I remember thinking, please, oh please God, don’t let this all be some prolonged dream.

Looking back, I guess it still was. Because we never got to the truth of what we did. Of what you did, Alice.

“I get it,” Max said after a long pause. She fiddled with the zipper on her hoodie. “It’s the same with me, Chloe, and Kate. I just... I get worried that it’ll end. That we’ll stop being what we are. To each other.”

“You won’t lose it.” I stared out at the sun drifting toward the edge of the hills that dotted the landscape. “Even if you all go separate ways, you never lose this.”

I wonder if you heard me at all, Alice. I’d like to think you’d agree.

“But this dream... this vision...” Now Max’s voice was getting stronger. More worried. “I can’t begin to describe what I’m seeing.” She stopped. “No. Not just seeing. More like I... like I’m remembering...”

I chewed on my lip, my hands steady on the wheel. “And what do you remember?”

“Storm clouds. The lighthouse snapping in half. Kate jumping from the rooftop.” Once she’d started, the words came flooding out of Max faster than she could breathe. Her hand gripped mine with a surprising ounce of strength. “I see Ch-Chloe dying. Dying in a hospital bed. Dying from a gunshot—again. I see Mark Jefferson in the junkyard. Stabbing me. Shooting Chloe. Burying Nathan. Hiding Rachel. And it’s dark, and it’s cold, and it hurts, and... and... and, oh God, what _is_ all this—?”

“Max, slow down!” I gripped her hand back. Kept my other hand steady on the wheel. Always steady, even when hounded by the strange. “Take a breath, Max.”

She began to breathe deeply. Almost right away, the color came back to her face, and she stopped trembling. Max closed her eyes and leaned into my shoulder. I tilted my head down, pressing my cheek into the top of her head.

One road trip, Alice. That’s all these girls had asked for. Not a lot to ask for, I thought. But when you travel the roads that I do, you know that peace of mind is in short supply.


	4. The Girl in the Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max's nosebleeds and visions of a past she never knew get worse. A trucker helps Chloe confront a face from her past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Fourth of July, everyone! :)

**4\. The Girl in the Mirror**

Storm clouds gather. Masses of water vapor gather together, causing a chain reaction in the atmosphere. Electricity fills the air. That static crackling that you see before you hear it, because the vision comes before the sound.

Right now, I’ve got a girl losing it in my truck. She, too, sees the vision before she can make a sound.

I hold her hand. I try to give her anchor against the storm inside her brain.

* * *

There was no one else at the gas station when I pulled into the side lot. Already a bad sign, I thought. Not even an asshole driving his Volvo around. And the more I looked, the sooner I realized. This gas station was almost a pitch-perfect replica of the one in Hornbrook. The one where a smiling girl had left a cryptic clue before vanishing into thin air. Even the dry air felt the same, and that unnerved me more than anything. 

I couldn’t worry about that right then. Not with Max zoning out in my passenger seat. I’d tried to fish around the glove compartment, digging up ancient, unused napkins and tissues to staunch the nosebleeds. Poor thing was half-collapsed against my side, mumbling to herself as whatever visions assaulted her in her dreamlike state.

“Hold on,” I told her. I squeezed her hand, like I could bring her back by simple pressure. “Just hold on, Max. I’ve got you.”

I had barely gotten her out of the truck and onto her feet when I heard a vicious tire squeal up the road. Glacing over my shoulder, I watched as Chloe’s truck peeled back onto the road—back from where they’d almost gone sailing into a ditch along the highway—before the ancient truck made one last turn into the parking lot where we stood. I leaned away, holding onto Max, as Chloe brought the rusted truck to a dead stop only a few feet from the back of my rig.

Goddamn, if that girl had clipped me in her panic, there’d be hell to pay. And _I’d_ be the one giving it to her, that’s for sure.

I was still glowering when Chloe kicked open the driver’s side door. She was in the middle of an argument when she emerged, her hands waving wildly in the air. “Oh, like _hell_ I was! I know what I saw, okay?”

“Chloe!” Kate’s voice came out from the other side of the truck. When her fluffy head of hair appeared, I caught her own vicious glare and decided to stay back. This was the first genuine hint of anger I’d seen in the quiet girl.

She wasn’t staying quiet anymore.

“You could’ve gotten us killed!” Kate insisted.

“Relax! I know what I’m... doing...”

Chloe’s bravado dried up when she saw Max a moment later. Within a heartbeat, she and Kate were racing to Max’s side. They gently took her from me, gripping and supporting her arms from either side. I hovered nearby, worried about the lack of color in Max’s face. At least the blood had stopped, although a little longer and it would begin to crust over.

“Ngh... sorry...” Max whispered. “I’m sorry... sorry...”

“D-don’t apologize,” Chloe answered. She wrapped her arms around Max and planted a kiss on her forehead, pushing away sweat-streaked hair. “You’re... you’re gonna be fine, Max. Just fine.”

I could tell she really wanted to believe that. To be honest, Alice, so did I.

Even with no witnesses around, I felt uncomfortable standing in the open like this. I coughed into my hand and suggested that we head into the restroom. Wash Max’s face and try to get her back to normal. We were still a few miles outside of Sacramento, where we could book another motel room and get to the bottom of this. But first things first. Save the girl falling apart in front of us.

My hand was on the verge of pushing open the bathroom door when Max’s hand wrapped around my wrist. I flinched at the grip. Tight and hard, even with her small fingers.

“No...!” Max’s voice came out as a groan. She pushed herself away from her girlfriends and clung to me. “Not there! Not again!”

“Max, what’s wrong?” I cupped her face with my hands. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“The bathroom...” she whispered, her voice growing hoarse. Thick with tears that streaked down her cheeks. “I... I keep seeing her there... Chloe... and Nathan...”

Now it came back to me. A key part of their troubled story in the Bay. Rich, unstable Nathan shooting Chloe Price. The trigger for their sad, tortured reunion. Like walking outside and finding a man being devoured. I knew that horror all too well.

I took Max by the hand and looked her in the eye.

“We’re not going alone,” I told her. “We’re going to face this together. Okay?”

Max nodded, uncertain but willing to listen. She blinked back tears, and she didn’t resist when Kate and Chloe took her by the hand. We all looked at each other and took a deep breath.

Then I led the way inside.

It was just a bathroom, like any other. Same graffiti on the stalls. Same ragged piece of toilet paper clinging to a floor tile. Same gang symbol etched into the mirror mounted over the sink. I could’ve driven with my eyes closed and found the exact same grungy bathroom in any other gas station, no matter how far down the West Coast I drove. And it’d always smell of air freshener spray and grimy toilet water. Some things we just can’t escape, like the past.

Or, in Max’s case, visions of a past that had never happened.

* * *

I read up on Rachel Amber’s story not too long ago. It was literally the first thing that popped up on Google for her name. A pair of headlines. “ _Rachel Amber Officially Confirmed Missing_ ” and “ _Missing Girl, 19, Found in Junkyard._ ”

Two articles from the _Arcadia Bay Beacon._ That was her legacy now. Not the beauty queen and grade-A student from Blackwell Academy. Not the aspiring model. Not the girl who’d been everyone’s friend—and everyone’s lover, as some suggested.

Just the girl gone missing. Another wasted life, dead and buried.

I piece together Rachel’s life from a string of tagged social media posts. I filter out the nastier comments, where dumb kids—and, to my disgust, a handful of adults—call her a slut, and sometimes worse. Rachel’s life is a series of selfies and runway poses, with Instagram filters and short YouTube uploads of her laughing or singing. Nothing of her speaking. No voice. Just the ever-present air of mystery. Inticing, but never quite drawing people into her hidden truth.

Seems quite fitting that she made such a good ghost, right?

* * *

There wasn’t anyone else in the restroom. Thank God for small miracles. I held Max up as Kate ran the water from the first sink. We dabbed a wet paper towel across the girl’s face, trying to scrub off the blood and bring back her color. Not an easy feat in a grungy gas station, but it beat the jump scares that Max was undergoing. She was completely docile in my grip. Quiet and shivering, but no longer muttering to herself. Whatever dreams she’d been inflicted with had ceased for the moment.

“Max?” Kate paused in her cleaning to look her friend over. Her bottom lip trembled. “Are you... are you still with us?”

“Mm.” Max blinked twice. She drifted a hand across her face, lingering over her nose. “I, uh... I think so. It’s... it’s a little easier to stand now.” She pushed at my hand on her shoulder, and then turned to flash me an awkward smile. “Mm. Uh, thanks for that.”

“Don’t mention it.” I squeezed her hand before letting go. “You gave us quite a scare.”

“I-I know...” Max’s eyes clouded over again. I braced for another attack of the nightmares, but she didn’t go into the same trance as before. Instead, she blinked and took a long breath. Held it for a few seconds and stared at herself into the mirror. And then... she let it go.

Something seemed to come back to her then. Some kind of control reasserted.

I felt so proud, if you can believe it.

“Chloe,” Max said, turning around again, “are you going to add anything or...?”

We stopped.

In our excited dash into the ladies’ room, we’d failed to notice Chloe. She’d taken one step inside, just a few paces behind Kate and I. And she hadn’t uttered a sound since then. Now we all looked at her, as she stood rigid and tall. Her blue eyes were fixed on the mirror above the sink. Her lips parted slightly, making no sound. Her hands clenched at her side. Something crackled in the air between her eyes and the mirror. Another eerie vision before sound returned to the world.

I touched her shoulder, and Chloe flinched away. Her eyes finally blinked shut, and she let out a tiny whimper.

“How?” she asked. “How is she... how is she even...?”

I didn’t need to ask who she was talking about. With the worst feeling in my stomach, I went and looked into the mirror.

Rachel Amber smiled back. She even waved at me.

None of us said a word. We couldn’t even if we tried. That raw crackling energy filled the air, like at any second the lights were going to snap off and plunge us into darkness. All we could do was stand, hearing nothing but our hearts beating, pounding hard and fast, and watching the girl in the mirror smile and laugh at us.

Rachel hadn’t changed at all. She looked exactly the same as before. Even the lighting on her face was the same as when she’d sat beside me in the truck all night long. Like she had her own personal sun. Because of _course_ she did.

“You didn’t make it easy,” she declared. “I’ve been trying to reach you for a while, girls.”

“The fuck...” Chloe shook her head. Tears flew out from her eyes. “What the _fuck_ is this?”

“Call it an omen. Or, you know, don’t. Doesn’t matter to me.” The image shrugged. “I mean, I’m dead, aren’t I?”

“But...” Now it was Max’s turn to speak. “The visions... that’s...” She swallowed and leaned onto Kate for support. “That’s _you,_ isn’t it?”

Rachel nodded.

“Why?” Chloe asked. She smacked her palms onto the edge of the sink, making Kate jump back. “Why do this? What, you need your kicks? You can’t just...” She had to stop, blinking back fresh tears. “God. You... you couldn’t just find some fuckin’ peace?”

“I’ve got my peace.” The words came out so smoothly. She looked Chloe right in the eye when she spoke. “No more bullshit, Price. Not for you.” She turned and smiled. “Or for her?”

I glanced back at Max, who’d begun to quiver in Kate’s grip.

“M-me?” she asked.

“Yeah, you. Still haven’t pieced it together yet?”

Max shook her head. I stood still, going through the evidence in my own head. Max had said she’d seen visions of things that she knew hadn’t happened. Things like Chloe dying in the school bathroom, or Kate jumping to her death from the edge of a roof. And suddenly the evil mastermind behind the girls disappearing in Arcadia Bay had made an appearance. Dark-haired, smooth-talking Mark Jefferson. He’d been caught and arrested over a year ago, but here he was again in Max’s mind, still taking down girls like her and Chloe in a junkyard. Again, all things that _could’ve_ happened. But all were things hadn’t happened.

Or had they?

I looked back at Rachel, who had stopped looking over at Max. Now those hazel eyes were fixed on me. And the enigmatic smile was back, too.

“You get it.” It wasn’t a question the way she phrased it. Rachel brushed back a lock of hair behind her ear. Fiddled with the blue feather hanging off her ear. “You know what this means, don’t you, Keisha?”

Of course she knew my name. Of _course_ she would.

You’ve a lot in common with her, Alice. I’ve always thought so.

“You’re showing her the choices she didn’t make,” I said, fighting back the urge to fall to my knees and shake like Max was doing. “You... you can see all those other timelines, can’t you?”

“Timelines...” Rachel laughed. “Yeah. That’s a good word, isn’t it? Max has a lot of power when it comes to moving time around.” She flashed Chloe a sympathetic smile. “Now you and her have all the time in the world. Lucky you.”

“Stop it!” Chloe slammed her fist against the porcelain surface of the sink. Hard enough to almost crack it. Her face had gone bright-red. “You don’t get to fucking play games with me! Not anymore, Rachel! Not after you and... and...”

Rachel stared back, still smiling. “Go on. Say it.”

“After...” Chloe sniffled and turned away. “Frank... Jefferson...” She shook her head. “Fucking _Nathan,_ even.”

I wanted to reach out and comfort her, but I knew better than to try. Chloe was a wounded animal, and the last thing you want to do is grab a bobcat when it’s hurt and snarling. You’re just as likely to get scratched up.

Meanwhile, Rachel lifted a hand away from her hair. She pressed her fingertips into the glass of the mirror—in the _other_ side of the mirror, from whatever side of reality she stood in. I stood still and watched as Rachel leaned close enough for her breath to fog up the glass of the mirror in whatever plane of existence she now called home. Her eyes were narrow, sharp and focused on Chloe’s tear-stricken face.

“I didn’t know anything before,” she told us. Her voice had gone lower than normal. Deep and heavy, rising up from an open grave. “I knew nothing about the world, Chloe. I knew nothing about Max Caulfield. But I get it now. I can _see_ what she’d do to save you.”

“What?” Max had all but melted into Kate’s arms as she faced down the ghost. “What are you even talking about?”

“Time, Max.” Rachel smacked her hand against the glass. The entire mirror on the wall shivered.

And then the image changed.

Suddenly, there was no Rachel Amber staring at us from beyond the grave. There were other girls now. Max and Chloe, but not as I knew them.

I saw Max grabbing a hammer and smashing a fire alarm, followed by Chloe shoving down a rich kid in a blazer and screaming, “ _Don’t you ever touch me again, freak!_ ” I saw another Max administering a dose of morphine into an IV that ran into the arm of a bedridden Chloe, whose hair was no longer blue but strawberry blonde. I saw Kate jumping from the rooftop of a dormitory building, while Max could only stand at the edge, peering down with her hands on her mouth. I saw Max tied to a chair in some demented white studio, as a man with gloves bent over to stick a syringe into her neck. She cried and pleaded with him as he administered the final dose.

All these things hit us in an instant. Familiar and nightmarish. And all too recognizable.

I wanted to throw up. I could’ve turned around, forced open a stall, and done just that, but I didn’t. Not out of bravado, mind you. I just knew, deep down, that I couldn’t abandon these poor girls watching this.

Finally, the cavalcade of images came to a halt. Rachel Amber reappeared, no longer smiling.

It was Kate, of all people, who spoke up. She looked from me to Chloe to the girl in the mirror. With a trembling bottom lip, she asked, “Why? Wh-why show us this?”

Rachel winked. “Welcome to the multiverse, kids. As it turns out, _you_ hit the jackpot.”


	5. Crossroads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ghost finally earns her rest. A trucker gets back on schedule.

**5\. Crossroads**

Ignorance isn’t bliss. Ignorance is just the starting point of a long road. It’s a constant condition. The more you learn, the more you realize how little you actually know.

Knowledge isn’t power. Knowledge is just a series of broken pieces that you’re collecting. It’s a tattered map that you’re using to drive by, with the window rolled down, and the pieces keep drifting out onto the road behind you.

We live in a world that we barely understand. All we have is each other.

And we barely understand each other, don’t we?

* * *

Rachel followed us outside the gas station bathroom. I don’t mean that she physically followed us. It was more like, one moment she was looking at us from the other side of a mirror, and then the next, she was sitting between Max and me in the cabin of my truck. And from what Chloe told me later, Rachel was there between her and Kate in the other truck, too. Talking to us at the same time, across two different conversations.

I guess time looks different from the other side. I’m not sure I want to know how it does, though.

Our little convoy resumed its journey to Sacramento. With only a few dozen miles left to go, we took our time. Melted back into the early afternoon traffic on the I-5 and let Rachel’s voice carry us along.

“You don’t even know how much you’ve sacrificed,” Rachel was telling us. She leaned back in her seat, her hands clasped behind her head. I couldn’t tell what she was looking at through the windshield. Certainly nothing I could see.

“You keep saying that,” Max interrupted. Her voice still trembled a little. Less so now that the nosebleeds had stopped. “But what does that mean? What sacrifice?”

“You have a power, Max Caulfield.” Rachel nodded to herself. “Right there, in your hand, is this... this  _ force, _ you know? It’s in the photographs you take, and it’s in the way you reach out to people. A chance to do everything over again. Stop Chloe from getting shot in the bathroom. Stop Kate from jumping off a roof. Rewind, and retry. David Madsen doesn’t like you in one timeline? So what? Jump to a new one, and show him your evidence. And  _ boom. _ Just like that, you’ve taken down Jefferson and the Dark Room.”

I used the natural pause in the conversation to ponder all of this. Of course, I couldn’t know everything Max had seen. I could imagine it, but seeing it—living through it—was something else. Just I knew these girls couldn’t imagine the horrors of going toe-to-toe with a Thistle Man.

Some things, I decided, were better left unsaid. They had enough on their plate as it was.

Meanwhile, Max hadn’t taken her eyes off Rachel. She chewed on her bottom lip. She looked ready to cry, or to cuss her brains out. Either way would’ve been acceptable.

“I’ve... I’ve never done anything like that,” Max insisted. “I couldn’t do what you’re talking about.”

“Because you’ve never had to, Max.” Rachel dipped her head. She was still smiling, but the smile wasn’t friendly now. More like it turned bittersweet. “Like I said,  _ you _ hit the jackpot this time. You found one of the best paths, and you didn’t have to break anything.”

“You’re dodging the question.” I shot a glance at Rachel. My hands remained steady on the wheel. “What did she break? What did she have to do to save Chloe? Or Arcadia Bay?”

Rachel stayed quiet for a little longer. Long enough that all we heard was the rush of cars passing by on the highway, and the low rattle of my air conditioning unit.

Then she said, “Out of so many timelines, Max,  _ you _ got this right. You saved them both.”

Max blinked. “What?”

“Did I fucking stutter?” 

“No, but I—”

“In the end,” Rachel continued, now sounding less pleasant, “you have to choose. The powers that be always made you choose. You either go back and let Nathan shoot Chloe, which gets him arrested, or else you stand with Chloe, and the two of you watch the storm wipe out the town.” She shot Max a sidelong glance. “The storm that  _ you _ created. All because you messed around with time. All because you tried to save Chloe... time and time again.”

Max had trouble responding. She dropped her face into her hands, and I fought the urge to pull over and comfort her. Instead, I gave Rachel a real dirty look, with both hands still on the wheel.

“Okay,” I said, trying to play the grown-up here. “Okay, so let me get this straight. You follow me around, you give Max visions of a time she’ll never know, and you bring your friend Chloe to tears... and what?” I snorted. “What is it all for, Rachel? How does this  _ help _ anyone?”

“It helps me,” Rachel answered. Her voice had gone flat. Drier than the air outside. “It helps me in every timeline. Because here, and now, I can rest easy.”

I blinked. “Come again?”

“I mean, I’m done.” Rachel offered a tiny smile, fully turning to me. “No more hauntings. No more visions. In every other timeline, I’m mourned. In a few, I’m alive, but no one I know would recognize me there.” She shrugged. “But here, in  _ this _ timeline? Max will know what happened. And so will Chloe. And so will Kate, who gets to live, too. Thank God.”

I frowned. “So you just needed to make sure this Max and Chloe knew.”

“It took so many versions to get this timeline right.” Rachel’s eyes fell shut. She leaned back in her seat. Her body left no weight on the cushion, I noticed. “But congrats, Max. You’ve won. You get Chloe. You get Kate. You get justice, and you get peace.”

Max shook her head, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. “I... I don’t think I’ll ever feel the same. Knowing this.”

“You will.” Rachel opened one eye long enough to wink. “Trust me. You will.”

And then she was gone again. In one blink of an eye, the space between Max and myself was empty again. Like Rachel Amber had never been there.

But I swear to God, I could still hear her laughing.

* * *

We pulled into an In-N-Out Burger just inside the city limits of Sacramento. The place was bright and clean, but I knew we couldn’t handle sitting inside that crowded restaurant. Not in our collective mood. I took one look at Chloe’s colorless face and I made her sit at a table with Max on the patio while Kate and I ordered food for everyone. Once again, greasy hot food with an abundance of salt was our salvation.

We didn’t say it, but when I passed around milkshakes and sodas for the girls, we looked each other in the eye. Without even thinking it, we lifted out drinks in a silent toast to Rachel Amber. To the other Maxes and Chloes and Kates, all living and dying in and around other Arcadia Bays.

No one paid us any mind. For once, we had no one on our tail.

* * *

Later that night, with our trucks parked and our one motel room booked, I sat up with Max while Kate and Chloe slept. The other girls were snuggled under the sheets of their bed, with Kate’s head resting on Chloe’s shoulder, as they held each other against whatever nightmares must’ve tested their sleep. Meanwhile, Max and I stood shoulder to shoulder, leaning on the wall outside, sharing drinks from a bottle of water. We stared out at the half-vacant parking lot, where our trucks sat, and where tiny moths flittered around a pair of street lights by the curb.

It was a long time before I finally asked, “What did you do differently?”

“What?” Max looked at me, her eyes sunken and small. I could tell she wanted to fall asleep, but her mind wouldn’t let her. And who could blame her?

“I mean, I’ve been thinking.” Rachel’s laughter seemed to echo out from a distant corner of the lot. I sighed and scratched at my neck. “Look, what she said... you did something right this time, Max. Chloe didn’t die this time. Neither did Kate. Neither did the town. And according to Rachel, it all ties back into you somehow.”

“Somehow,” Max echoed. She snorted and shook her head. “I wish I knew. I...” She ducked her head, and I half-expected to see tears falling again. “I didn’t  _ do _ anything. I hid, and I cried. I watched her get shot. I got scared  _ again _ when they arrested Jefferson, and I cried when Kate remembered what he and Nathan had done to her.”

Her bottom lip trembled, and I reached out to pat her shoulder. With a shuddering breath, Max looked up at me. I didn’t hesitate to pull her in for a hug. She melted into my chest, and I stroked her hair.

After a long moment, I said, “I believe you, Max.”

“Good,” she answered, her voice wet and choked against my shirt. Max sniffled and lifted her head to meet my gaze. “But I wish I knew what I did right. It’s going to kill me if I don’t know. If I don’t...”

She didn’t have to finish it. I could already hear the rest of her answer in my head.

_ If I don’t keep getting it right, what if more bad things happen on this timeline? _

Guilt is an old friend. It hurts to admit it, but it’s true. I’ve had a trailer full of guilt following me down every road since we drifted apart, Alice. Guilt over every little spat. Guilt over not being worthy to know your secrets. Guilt over changing jobs just to find you, as if I ever could.

I knew Max’s pain all too well.

“Hey,” I answered, stroking more hair from her face, “you’re already getting it right.” Max scoffed, but I persisted. “No, really. You are. You reached out to Kate when she needed you. You went and patched things up with Chloe when she found out who she was.” I swallowed, trying to sort the blizzard of thoughts bouncing around my skull. “Look, those bastards? Nathan and Jefferson... they screwed up when they tangled with Chloe. But putting them away wasn’t justice. Finding Rachel wasn’t justice. It was the aftermath, Max. Putting girls like Chloe and Kate back together. That was all you. In  _ this _ timeline.”

Max sniffled, and I had to check to make sure her nose wasn’t bleeding again. But it wasn’t this time. She wiped her face with her hand, and she smiled.

I pulled her to my chest again. I heard Max sigh, and she finally started to relax. So different now from the anxious girl whose eyes had darted around a half-empty diner many miles back.

“In this timeline,” Max said, “if I don’t get some sleep, I’m gonna turn into a zombie.”

We laughed, and I patted her back. Max stepped away, but she held onto my arm as we headed back into the motel room.

After that, she didn’t need another hug. She slept like an angel. And so did I.

* * *

I’m back on the road again, Alice. Back on my own. The only ghost on my trail now is yours. At least, that’s what I hope.

The girls from Arcadia Bay parted ways with me in Burbank. They were headed west, ready to hit Venice Beach and the Sunset Strip and a thousand other tourist attractions. I was still southward bound, with a trailer full of shrink-wrapped DVDs to deliver. But duty didn’t call me entirely away. I still had enough time to meet Chloe’s truck at an empty Sears parking lot and give each girl a hug goodbye.

“We’ll send you a postcard!” Kate Marsh insisted.

“Yeah, and we’d better see you dancing it up at one of the clubs!” Chloe Price added with a wink. Kate groaned, and Chloe patted her arm.

Only Max Caulfield remained quiet. She held onto me the longest, and I felt something catch in my throat when she let go. I wouldn’t call it a premonition. More like... a sudden spark of memory. Of all the memories we’d made together, now all the more precious because we were pulling apart at last.

“See you around,” said Max, right before she snapped a picture of me with her Polaroid camera. She pocketed the photo in her messenger bag, and then she waved goodbye.

No more looking back. No more tears. Only smiles, and each of us going back on the trip we’d originally planned to have. Three girls race deeper into the heart of Los Angeles, to honor a dead girl’s memory and celebrate the love they share for each other.

And what about me? Well, I’m cruising down to San Bernardino, watching old white pickup trucks and sleek gray hybrids try to outmaneuver my rig in the slow lane. I look out at the trees and yellowing front lawns of a hundred identical houses and condos south of the main highway. I listen to the radio, and if I pause long enough, I can almost hear a mysterious young woman’s laughter rippling across the bursts of static. When I do, I smile back.

My hand caresses the side of the steering wheel, and for one long moment, I forget that there’s anything vicious lurking out in the world. I just smile, and I try to imagine life in a small town with secrets somewhere up the coast in Oregon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read this. It was a fun little experiment. I hope to add more to this Pricemarshfield series, with more of a direct sequel to "Room for One More" next time.


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